Lost for a home
Like a fish
out of water,
I’m always
on the border of being lost and clueless. No place
where I truly belong. It’s no surprise I was a cultured
kid all along. Always too western and white washed
for Thailand. Too asian, too dark for England. Why can’t I
be accepted and stop being always so neglected? A glare, a
stare, or being unfair is all it takes for me to fall back there.
The smell of aeros and sausage rolls, the smell of
gingerbread men takes me back to standing in front
of big ben. But then there’s the smell of chilli and spice I
didn’t dare to eat twice. The soft chewy noodles I ate daily
was the comfort I knew at home but now it’s all an
unknown. Where do I belong? Have I been wrong all
along? I was born mixed, that’s not something for me to
fix. I shouldn’t be ashamed yet somehow I’m being blamed.
Yes I’m a mixed cultured kid, that’s not something I ever
hid. I’m not going to hide my identity, even if it’s
obstructing my serenity. I’m tired of being ignored, like I’m
trapped in some ward. I’m tired of being punished, with
people acting as though I’m rubbish. It has to end, I can’t
continue to
pretend.
